


Baby it's cold outside

by TetrodotoxinB



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anxiety, As much floof as I can muster, Floof, Fluff, Found Family, M/M, Marvel Holiday Swap, PTSD, Recovery, Snowball Fight, Steve and Bucky both got some issues, pinch hit, remembering, so be nice to me i wrote this fast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 08:03:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17260580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TetrodotoxinB/pseuds/TetrodotoxinB
Summary: The present forces Steve and Bucky to confront the past. But it's in the past that they find their future.





	Baby it's cold outside

**Author's Note:**

  * For [astudyinsolitude](https://archiveofourown.org/users/astudyinsolitude/gifts).



> Created as a pinch hit for the Marvel Holiday Swap. Thanks to [ChibiSquirt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChibiSquirt/pseuds/ChibiSquirt) for making sure the story was coherent. All the mistakes are mine though. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy, random internet friend!

When the meeting calls a fifteen minute break in mid-afternoon, Steve hightails it back to his quarters. It’s only been a couple weeks since Bucky was discharged from full-time psychiatric care, and this is the first time he’s been alone for any period of time. Throughout the day Nat and Sam have both reassured him multiple times that Bucky is fine. He wouldn’t be outpatient if he weren’t. 

Still, Steve is nearly crawling out of his skin by the time he can slip out of the conference room. As he quickly makes his way through the corridors to their adjoined suites, Steve wonders if his unease reflects more on himself than on Bucky. He’s sure that Sam would have something to say about the situation that Steve doesn’t really want to hear.

But regardless of Sam’s theoretical insights, Bucky’s just fine. He’s sitting quietly on the window seat, his arms wrapped around his knees as he looks out the window over the river behind the Compound.

It’s deep winter, and in the Adirondacks the snow lies thick over the pine canopies and frozen river. 

“It’s beautiful,” Steve says quietly.

Bucky nods almost imperceptibly. “Never saw snow like this as kids. Only ever white for a few minutes before the dirt turned it brown.”

“You remember the Italian Alps?” It’s a loaded question, but nothing infuriates Bucky more than pretending the past never happened so Steve asks anyway.

Bucky snorts. “Outside Kreishberg? Yeah, I remember it.”

“‘Funny that someplace that beautiful oughta be so evil.’”

Bucky nods. “It was gorgeous there. Almost sorry to blow a hole in the side of that nice mountain. Almost.”

Steve smiles. “I think about that every time I see the snow here.”

After a moment, Bucky scoots backwards on the window seat, making space for Steve to sit down. Six months ago, Bucky tried to kill Steve; he didn’t know Steve’s name or even his own. Now… now they’re sharing a window seat, Bucky’s toes just touching Steve’s thigh. Steve swallows against the rise of the old familiar grief, a habit that he can’t seem to break regardless of Bucky’s continued existence. 

At some point, Steve’s phone buzzes in his pocket and he mashes every button on either side without taking it out of his pocket. The meeting was boring anyway, SHIELD’s latest PR coordinator trying to explain to Steve which political opinions he should keep to himself. Steve’s glad not to go back. 

After two calls and six texts — all Tony trying to convince him to come back to the meeting — the attempts seem to have stopped. Steve knows that if it was important, someone would just walk down to their rooms to get him.

Bucky shifts as the snow begins to fall again outside. “Wanna go for a walk?”

They haven’t been outside yet, not properly. There have been brief moments — walkways between buildings and quick transitions to transports — but never a chance for Bucky to feel the sun on his skin, to get a lungful of fresh air. 

Steve is up, boots and coat on and holding Bucky’s coat as well, before Bucky even has his first shoe on.

“God, the way you act, it’s you that’s been cooped up inside for six months instead of me,” Bucky mutters.

Steve snorts and tosses Bucky’s coat at him.

*****

Bucky tenses as soon as they head out the doors and Steve understands. The open area in front of the Compound that they have to cross to get to the walking trails is a double-edged sword. On one hand, the open areas mean that they have no cover against anyone who might be waiting in the woods. On the other, the space provides them a decent line of sight and little in the way of hiding spots for lurking HYDRA operatives in the immediate vicinity. 

Unlike in New York City, though, there’s no one to bump into, no one to jostle or bump or shout at them. Leaving the Tower had been hell for Steve for the first month. Going from the Front to the Future triggered every one of Steve’s alarm bells. Coming to the Compound, while a pain for everyone else, had been a relief for him.

They reach the treeline and turn onto one of the paths that winds through the woods. It’s cold outside but in the trees there’s no wind. It’s easy enough to bundle up against the chill, especially with the serum. 

The leaves are frozen and crisp under their feet, and the small birds that haven’t migrated south twitter in the still green boughs of the pines and cedars. But for all the winter beauty of the woods, Bucky’s agitation seems to grow with every step.

Steve thought that reaching the treeline would help. But looking at Bucky as they tromp through last night’s snow — the hard set of his jaw, the creases of his forehead, the way his nostrils flare as he tries to hold back the flood of panic — things are only escalating.

“Hey, Buck. Look at me, pal.”

Bucky stops, and his eyes skitter all over Steve before coming to a jittery rest somewhere in the vicinity of Steve’s face. 

“Good,” Steve praises. “Just like everything else, we can stop if it’s too much.”

“‘S fine,” Bucky rasps. Steve narrowly resists the urge to roll his eyes at the absurdity of that assertion.

“Alright, well let me know if you get too cold. We can head back anytime.”

In an instant Bucky’s shoulders flatten out. He stands up straight — too straight. It only takes Steve a second to figure out what went wrong.

_If you get too cold…_

It’s not the open or closed space. It’s not the people. It’s not the noise or technology. None of those things have really bothered Bucky in the last few months, Steve realizes. Bucky’s got memories spanning decades, an understanding of the world they’re in now. 

He’s also got decades of being frozen and thawed over and over and _over_ — all while conscious. Steve only remembers snatches of being thawed, in the moments when the sedation wore off, but it was agony. There’s no way HYDRA ever afforded Bucky the luxury of anesthesia.

_Fuck._

Steve’s first instinct is to bundle Bucky back to the Compound and give him a cup of hot cocoa and a heated blanket, to never let the cold in again because the guilt that he left Bucky to the hands of HYDRA still sits heavily on him. But since they collared Bucky after Project Insight, Steve has learned that the last thing Bucky needs or wants is anyone to coddle him. Instead, he puts his hands in his coat pockets to help him refrain from trying to hug Bucky on the spot.

They walk on, and the only audible signs that Bucky isn’t alright are the constant recalibrations of his arm and his rapid, shallow breathing, loud in the deep quiet of the mountains. This is hardly even a panic worth noting after everything he’s been through, but still, Steve hates it. Hates it because he _knows._

The first time Steve fucked up the fancy shower dial in his bathroom, he’d doused himself in ice-water. The shock made his chest clench, it was nothing like being dropped into the Arctic Ocean, but it was enough to send him scrambling out of the shower. He slipped and went down hard, curling up on himself on the cold tile and gasping in sheer terror until JARVIS, in his infinite and inhuman wisdom, turned the heat up in the bathroom enough for Steve to calm. 

In his pockets, Steve clenches his fists against the frustration that there’s nothing to do, relaxing fractionally, step by step, as they wind their way closer to the Compound and warmth. But as they break the treeline where they started, Steve sees the rest of the team cutting across the field towards them. 

Bucky’s steps falter only briefly before he catches his stride again as they alter their walking course to intercept their friends. 

“Yeah, I see Barnes is really having a rough afternoon out here in this pristine forest reserve. Definitely good that you skipped the rest of the meeting,” Sam says with a smirk.

“They ripped us a new one when you didn’t come back or answer your phone, Rogers,” Natasha informs Steve. She’s never been one to give a damn about propriety or about being dressed down; Steve knows her anger is only for show. He twists his face into something he hopes looks appropriately sheepish and looks at his feet.

“Sorry about that,” he says.

Tony snorts. “Oh, please. No you’re not. Besides, they’re just mad that they they didn’t get to escape, too. Anyway, how’re you liking the great outdoors, Vanilla Ice?”

Bucky shrugs. “It’s nice here.”

Tony smirks but whatever he was about to say is cut off when Bruce _screeches_ from where he stands between Thor and Nat.

“What the hell?” Bruce shouts.

For a split second Steve and everyone tense. Bruce is quiet and reserved. Anything that makes him yell like that can’t be good. But then Clint’s wheezing laughter cuts the tension, drawing everyone’s eye. Steve looks back to Bruce to see him shaking clumps of snow out of the bottom of his shirt and coat; not a hint of green anywhere on him.

For a moment, Bruce just glares at Clint. Then, he scoops a handful of snow and slaps it down right in Clint’s hair. Bruce immediately dives behind Nat for cover because Clint is already making actual snowballs, and Nat takes the first of Clint’s volley to her exposed neck. 

Once Nat joins the melee, Sam and Thor seem delighted to jump in, too. There’s a moment where Tony does some eyerolling, just so everyone knows how immature and ridiculous this is, before he succumbs to peer pressure and the need for some sort of defense against the rain of snowballs pelting him. 

Still, Steve lingers back with Bucky, watching the proceedings and waiting to see how Bucky wants to handle it. But before either of them can make a decision either way, a snowball lands smack in the middle of Bucky’s chest. They both look over to see Nat grinning, all of her teeth bared in challenge. Sam uses that moment of distraction to launch several handfuls of snow into her face at once and then tackle her.

“That little shit,” Bucky mutters brushing himself off. 

There’s a tone to Bucky’s voice, a presence that’s been lacking, and Steve wants to reach out and touch because it’s the first time he’s seemed whole to Steve since they found him. Bucky shifts, his body language something that reminds Steve of DC. But instead of some theorized reset to mission ready compliance, Bucky crouches, scoops up a handful of snow, forms it, and heads off towards the fray. That’s all the incentive Steve needs to join in, too. 

The fight doesn’t last as long as it would have if they were kids. The sun is already low, and save for Steve and Bucky, none of them were really dressed to be outside all that long. The team is covered in snow, their hair is wet, their hands and noses are red, and their lips are chapped. By unspoken consensus they begin to head back towards the Compound. 

Steve slows and Bucky matches his pace, both of them falling behind the group. As they walk, Bucky edges closer to Steve, close enough that they brush arms.

“How you feeling?” Steve asks quietly.

“Little on edge, but better.” Bucky pauses a beat before adding, “Had a lot of fun. I’d forgotten what that felt like.”

Steve smiles and tries to be happy instead of sad. Every breakthrough for Bucky is a reminder of what he’s lost, and sometimes the bitter overwhelms the sweet of the event for Steve. He swallows, trying to focus on the good, and looks over a Bucky to see him watching Steve out of the corner of his eye.

“You remember that base we destroyed outside Metz?” Bucky asks tentatively.

“Yeah.”

“The night after?”

Steve stops and turns to face Bucky. “I never forgot.”

“Well, I did. But I remember it now.”

There’s a surety, a sauve confidence in Bucky voice, and Steve’s throat goes dry. He’s kept what they were to himself, a secret he always expected to take to his grave. His silence wasn’t because he didn’t want; he’s wanted every second since he realized that Bucky was still alive. But just like with Peggy, some things change with time and can’t be recovered. It was never Steve’s place to put that expectation on someone who might never even remember what they had once had.

Bucky reaches out and slips his hand into Steve’s and tugs. “Come on. I think I need to go warm up.”

Steve stumbles over his feet as they start walking again and his heart thumps wildly in his chest. God, everything he’s been holding back for the last six months threatens to burst forth, but Steve knows that everything is still so new, so fresh, so brittle that he has to think before he speaks. 

He looks over at Bucky and watches him, cataloguing his movements, trying to find any remaining dregs of panic, any signs of mental compromise that could be lingering. And yeah, Bucky’s tense. It took Steve a while to get over his thing with the cold too, but Bucky’s eyes are bright and calculating. 

_Allow him the dignity of his choice._

Peggy’s advice is as relevant now as it ever has been. Well, that and Steve never could deny that playful and lecherous look that’s in Bucky’s eyes right now.

“I might have an idea on how we could warm up,” Steve finally ventures, and Bucky’s face splits into a wide grin.

“Oh, yeah...? Just the one? I got my brain blended and I can do better than that.”

“Well, by all means. Let’s see what you got.”

“You talk a big game, Rogers.”

Steve laughs and bumps his shoulder against Bucky. “I can do this all day.”

Bucky huffs a quiet laugh. “Hope you can do it all night, too.”

Steve squeezes Bucky’s hand, his chest clenching. “I’ll give it my best, Sergeant.”

“Atta boy, Stevie.”

God, Steve has missed this, more than anything else in the world. Not since the War has he felt like he had a family. Steve had thought it was the Howling Commandos that had been his home, thought that it was something wrong with SHIELD, thought that team dynamics were off with the Avengers when he didn’t — _couldn’t_ — feel the same with them. But it was Bucky that had made it real. 

It was always Bucky.


End file.
